28 February 2007

I’d whipped up a confection of a portrait ensemble—all white, vintage linens, chenille, and crocheted lace—which was almost divine. Almost. It just needed a hat.

Way back seventeen months ago when I started sewing children’s couture I designed a simple cloche, but could I just modify that pattern? Could I possibly take the sensible route? Let’s not be ridiculous. I couldn’t.

I had to, instead, study and modify a downloaded pattern that was pure crap (which would probably explain the free-ness of it), draft and alter a new pattern several dozen times, and rip out seams like the star of a horror movie. Nic the Ripper. That’s me. Incidentally, how many calories do you think one burns per hour ripping seams? My right wrist seems twice as muscular as its counterpart, what with all the deft flicks of each pulled stitch.

But back to my misery. I’m now on the twenty-something-ith version of the crown, and the ninth version of the brim. But each attempt is closer to the shape I’m pining for, and with a bit o’ luck, I just might have this completed and photographed by tomorrow evening.

26 February 2007

Zee's* got a heart of the most tender variety. On February 14th, he crafted a valentine from newsprint, complete with a fold-out secret message, and he galloped across the living room to hand it to me. When he smiles, his eyes are a lambent blue.

At the supermarket, Em wanted to be sure Daddy wasn't getting the juice that "makes [his] mouth hot." Apparently orange pulp is not his thing.

Our oldest son is our in-house comedian. At dinner, he was showcasing his invisible bee and Joe, the imaginary guy who was about to be stung. Hmmmn. I vote he gets it from his father.

Sometimes when I'm reading, Elle will wriggle her little self between the flannel sheets. She finds it secretly hilarious to be stealing Daddy's spot, lying on his pillow. She threads my hair through her tubby hands and sings a rendition of Barney's we-all-love-each-other song that's fourteen types of adorable.

18 February 2007

13 February 2007

bliz·zard (blĭz'ərd)n. 1. Cause for school and work to close, resulting in everyone sitting about and making each other a wee bit crazy 2. Rattling of windows, icing of tree limbs, waist-high drifting of snow 3. Reason to hole up in the house with board games, classic Disney movies, blankets, books, and hot chocolate with bitty marshmallows